Absolution
by anothersmithy
Summary: Garrison is finding it hard to get his act together and the team are losing patience, will Actor sort him out?


**Absolution**

_**By Annette M Smith**_

Lieutenant Craig Garrison sat with his team around the large scrubbed oak table in the Mansion kitchen. He was pushing around on his plat with a fork the stew and dumplings Mrs. B had ladled out for him from a large pot placed in the center of the table on a trivet. Although it smelt really appetising and he was trying to be polite by eating it, he really wasn't hungry.

He was finding it more and more difficult to distract himself from the inane, negative banter and grousing between Goniff and Casino who sat at the far end from him. He finally lost his patience altogether and slammed down his fork and pushed his plate away petulantly. Not failing to notice, Actor shot a warning look over at the two protagonists who naturally took no heed, too intent on their bickering, while Mrs. B, concerned also by the Lieutenant's behaviour, feeling the tension radiating from him, placed a gentle hand on one of his hunched shoulders as she busied herself around behind him. But rather than producing the calming effect she had hoped, it prompted him to stand abruptly, nearly knocking her for six as he shoved his chair back, its feet scraping loudly on the quarry tile floor. He made alarmingly quick progress towards a somewhat astounded Casino who had been stunned into silence by the vitriol and choice swear words now being directed at him by the Warden. From his position between them, Chief stood in a lightning flash already in tune with the atmosphere and blocked his progress shoving him back at the shoulders a couple of times to stop his momentum. An impasse ensued whilst Garrison, breathing heavily, stared with sheer rage over Chief's shoulder at Casino and then back into the eyes of the young man who was blocking his path. Quickly taking in that all at the table had now closed ranks around Casino, Garrison, giving Chief a disdainful look, surprised somewhat that he should support the safe cracker, turned on his heels and stormed out, ignoring Mrs. B's entreaties and slammed the back door so hard the glass rattled and the crockery jumped on the dresser.

"What was that all about?" Mrs. B stammered as Goniff seeing her disquietude helped her to sit down on the chair he had just stood upright.

"Don't you go worrying now Mrs. B, the Warden's just a bit tired and stressed these days, he don't mean nuthin', fancy a nice cuppa rosy lee?" He turned to put the kettle on the hob.

"He's gone and left his nice dinner I did special, like, with 'im in mind. That's not to say I don't do it with all you lads in mind, but lately..." she trailed off still somewhat shaken by the violence of the moment. "It really in't like 'im to be so ungentlemanly like."

"Phew, Mrs. B you ain't seen nothing babe!" Casino interjected in his East Coast accent, nodding to Chief unspoken words of thanks. "I've finally had it with that guy, he's really starting to get to me."

"Just starting," butted in the little Cockney thief, "blimey, he ain't been himself for ages. I think he's losing it, I'm beginning to think we'd all be better off safely back inside...!"

Mrs. B seeing the tall handsome Italian standing somewhat aloof stroking his chin, drew him into the conversation. "Can't you speak to him, love, or sumthin' ?You seem to be close to him."

Somewhat tickled at the endearment she had used towards him, Actor came closer to address her putting his perfectly manicured hand on her shoulder. "At this moment Mrs. B, I doubt very much if he'll let anyone in to be honest, but yes, of course I'll try." He wondered if anyone could be considered 'close' to the Warden at this time. "Let's just finish this lovely meal you've taken so much trouble to prepare for us and give him some time to calm down."

He sat and encouraged the others to do the same and to continue their meals, whilst Mrs. B returned the pot to the 'Aga' to reheat a bit. He pondered on how he could broach things with the Lieutenant, who he had noticed retreat into himself, driving himself on more and more over the last few months. In Actor's opinion too he was 'losing it' as Goniff had so succinctly put it. He was certainly losing his edge and had been making slight, well, not so slight, errors of judgment which were beginning to have a detrimental effect on the efficiency, safety and inevitably the morale of the team. They were all tired, tired of the war, tired of seemingly endless missions, sometimes seemingly pointless missions, tired of the constant danger, tired of the Mansion's restrictions, and yes, certainly sometimes tired of each other. Actor longed for his previously lavish life and freedoms now gone. But there was some other constant source of discomfort worrying the Lieutenant and it was not just the added weight of responsibility.

Slight errors of judgment, that was the key. The Warden certainly could not stand to be fallible, that was for sure, and had always given himself a hard time if he judged he had made a mistake and Actor knew that at this moment his outright display of uncontrolled anger would be tormenting him. But no, these errors of late were the result of something, not the underlying cause of the problem.

He quickly reviewed the missions they had undertaken recently and there seemed nothing out of the ordinary - there was a fair share of failure and success, nothing that could account for the Warden's extreme agitation. How far back did this go, three maybe four months? Actor mulled. There had been that time when Garrison had been captured and beaten brutally, had this disturbed him far more than anyone had realised? It certainly wasn't the first time it had happened, or the worst and they were all aware of his ability to disassociate himself from pain, to their detriment sometimes. He had taken a pounding from a young German officer who obviously took pride in his work but he had soon recovered and had been signed back for active duty in quick time. Yet, now Actor thought about this more, his mind was taken back to something he had dismissed at the time. An attractive young nurse, who had known Garrison from one of his previous stays in hospital, had mentioned in passing that he had been very subdued on this occasion and that she had missed his humour and banter. Was this an indication that, although he may have been physically fit, he had not been mentally so on discharge? Had the Lieutenant run a 'con' past the doctor? He was certainly capable of it. Actor preened himself to think that all his good teaching was coming to fruition. The more he considered the whole episode the more it began to make sense that this was the root of the problems and of course there had been that additional element to consider.

ggggg

_They had been dropped into Normandy not far from the coast near the small town of Trévières. It was cold, damp and blustery in the pre-dawn light. Jean-Paul, with a couple of other partisans had waited despite their lateness and had helped to secrete their 'chutes'_ _ and gather their equipment together before guiding them tentatively to a safe house on the outskirts of the town. Fog over the Channel had delayed their flight and had almost lost them the precious cover of darkness altogether, but once the wind had picked up the fog had lifted and they left. They could not wait another day. The position of a young English woman who was working for British Intelligence was feared compromised. Something had prevented her from making contact with anyone for several days, and if the information she was gathering fell into the wrong hands the Allied Forces' strategies for the future could be laid bare._

_Emmanuelle had been collating information about the topography and __makeup of the beaches and also concerning the buildup of troops and defenses in the area. British Royal Engineers, working on her data, were going in under the cover of darkness from offshore to take soil samples in order to ascertain which beaches would support heavy vehicles and landing craft. An attempt earlier in the war to establish a beachhead at Le Havre by Allied Forces had proven disastrous and all hopes rested on the possibility of a mass landing taking place in this area or further north along the Cherbourg Peninsula. If the Gestapo got wind of what this young woman was involved with it would not have taken them long to put two and two together._

_Jean-Paul had been very indifferent about the arrival of Garrison and his men, complaining in no uncertain terms that it was a waste of time and effort __and that he could have deftly dispatched the young women had the order been given. He thought any attempt at rescue was futile and feared for the integrity of his operations if she was to be captured; she knew several of his team and how they could be contacted. The Frenchman had insisted that it was almost impossible to get to Emmanuelle; that she lived in a small back street house and was, he thought, under constant surveillance. Garrison had argued vehemently that he would sanction her death only as the last resort. She probably still had important information that she had not been able to radio out and despite this, killing her was not something he would contemplate without at least one attempt at extricating her. Jean-Paul had shrugged his shoulders, refused to risk the lives of his men and left. The team would have to go it alone without backup._

_Garrison was distracted to say the least by Jean-Paul__'s_ _attitude and by the inevitable change in plans. Time was slipping fast away. He quickly ran through the options that were left to them. He hated being put in the position of weighing up the odds without proper consideration. Leaving it until after dark to go for her left open the possibility that she could be picked up during the day, whilst striking quickly, without further ado, had its own problems; there would be no time for reconnaissance or a chance to set up contact with Emmanuelle. If the latter was to work at all the team would have to move fast as the grey dawn light was giving way to colour and before long the town would begin to stir. _

_It took Garrison time to work his way around avoiding the town square where a small patrol loitered outside _'le mairie'_ ostensibly to maintain the curfew. However they seemed quite relaxed, smoking and chatting in the early morning light, stamping their feet to get some warmth into them. He had left Actor, as his second in command, with__ Goniff_and_ Casino to__ organise__ some transport and a route out to the coast where a small fishing boat would be waiting to pick them up in the small hours of the following day. The Lieutenant finally knocked on the old oak door, its paint peeling, as the town hall clock struck 6 o'clock making his nerves jar; it put him on his metal. As he waited minutes seemed like hours in his impatient state and hearing nothing, except his own heartbeat, he was forced to knock again somewhat louder. The noise echoed in the stillness of the little alley. He began to question the efficacy of his plan. Jean-Paul had said she was still at the house, but he knew she must be very agitated; something had spooked her so much that she had not made her regular contact nor had she turned to Jean-Paul for assistance. He feared that his actions may even draw attention to her. Finally he heard movement from the other side of the door and he was asked cautiously to identify himself. Her anxiety was evident in her voice so in an attempt to put her more at ease he dropped his own guard and replied softly in English. Again he was forced to wait. He could only imagine the stress she was under; being undercover for a couple of days was bad enough, but doing so for weeks on end, on one's_ _own, took great courage, her nerves must be shattered . Finally the bolts were drawn back. Just as she did so he spotted movement at the top end of the narrow street and he barged in without further ceremony and began to bar the door behind him, but it was all too late. A confusion of shouted commands, the sound of running jackboots echoed on the damp cobblestones followed by that of splintering wood and the reverberation of gun fire broke the silence of the cold morning air. _

_The young Indian, who had been watching Garrison's back as always, was prevented from doing anything to help in the tight confines of the lane. He was outnumbered so he slipped in feline silence further back into the shadows of his hiding place. Minutes later he could only watch as the two allies were dragged out of the house at gun point, Garrison clutching his hand hard to his shoulder while blood oozed from out between his fi__ngers_ _ - this mission had become a lot more complicated, what was new? As they passed him, being harried along roughly, he heard the young woman roundly rebuke his commander for his foolhardiness. She certainly had some pluck which he hoped would carry her through whatever ordeal would inevitably follow._

_Chief followed as closely as he was able to see where they were destined before slinking away to break the news to the others.__ From a distance he watched as Garrison and Emmanuelle were pushed up the steps of 'le mairie', its red, black and white swastika banners fluttering in the early morning breeze. An officer stood at the top, the obvious look of pleasure on his face was not lost on Chief. He seemed surprised to have two captives instead of the planned one and although the scout understood little German he gathered the congratulatory intonations in the officer's voice as he addressed his foot soldiers and patted a couple on the shoulder. _

_ggggggg_

_Actor had been informed by Chief that although he could not get a clear view of the insignia of the officer in charge, he had appeared young, perhaps a captain. This made some sort of sense as the town was small and of no real military significance; it would not demand a big garrison stationed there. The only workable solution Actor could come up with was to hope that sooner or later high ranking officials of some nature, SS or Gestapo, would be called in to interrogate the captives or take them away; this had been their experience in the past. As the team had done so often before, they would hijack the vehicle as it came into town, then pass themselves off as the officers. The main concern was how few of them there were to pull off a caper like this. They were already one man down and as the fleetest and most able to cross country unseen, Chief had been dispatched to find somewhere else safe to hold up (they could not be sure where they were would be safe for long) and to go ahead to the coast, some 10km off, to reschedule the pickup. The partisans had vanished into thin air._

_Time slipped inexorably away_ _as they lay in wait watching the road and the inactivity gave them time to worry. It was as much as the dark Italian could do to contain the hot headed Casino who was all for going in all guns blazing and as the hours ticked away he too became very concerned for the two captives. Why was there no movement? Were they already dead? Had the officer decided to have his own 'fun' before calling in the big guns? Had they missed the vehicle coming in or perhaps one going out? There had not been enough of them to watch 'le mairie' as well! Even Goniff had given up grousing about being hungry and had generally gone quiet which was always a sign that things were bad. The only consolation was when Chief returned to them in the early hours of the morning bringing with him some food and good news about the pic up. As Actor was re-considering his plans, now that they had an extra pair of hands, the long awaited staff car finally came into sight. Actor had already donned the SS uniform that had been made for him; it was always difficult to appropriate one big enough so the Army had finally agreed to have one tailored. In this disguise he waylaid the vehicle with some ruse giving time for the others to creep up from behind and efficiently take control of the situation. Goniff_,_ Casino and Chief had then dressed themselves in the uniforms of the dead. _

_The Hauptmann at 'le__ mairie'_ _had in fact been mortified as Actor, flanked by Goniff and Casino, had stormed in demanding in an officious and commanding manner to see the prisoners without further delay. The young man had hoped to have ingratiated himself by already having extracted the information the SS would require but it had gone badly wrong - he knew he had gone too far. He found himself trying to atone for his action by doing his utmost to accommodate his superior's demands and obsequiously, without checking paperwork, led them down into the bowels of the building. The two captives were found in a cold, wet and smelly room with green slime and mold on the walls where light could not penetrate. As the strong steel door had been unlocked they were huddled together blinking at the blinding light, before Garrison had pushed Emmanuelle behind him as he eased himself up painfully to his feet. The big con man, drawing in his breath, struggled to maintain his composure at the inhumanity of it all, his worst fears made manifest. In order to try and gain a few seconds of time while he thought what next to do, he turned his disdain and anger verbally onto the Hauptmann complaining vociferously that he had wanted the captives 'fresh' and that action would be taken against him. At the same time Goniff stifled an upsurge of bile from his stomach whilst Casino itched to do some damage. In this commotion it all happened in an instance. Garrison flew at the officer - where his strength had come from only God knew. He grabbed the German's head in the crook of one arm and with his free hand wrenched it sharply but he waited just a split second as the young man's eyes met his before he pressed home his hold and whispered "Go to Hell you bastard" and let the body slump to the floor before following it down himself. Actor, desperate to keep control of the situation quickly barked out orders to the German guards who stood looking bewildered to restrain Garrison while he nodded towards Goniff and Casino to fetch the young woman out of the cell. He was glad of the authority his uniform carried and hurriedly had the two hostages bundled into the vehicle Chief had revved at the foot of the step of the town hall before the guards had time to realise what was happening. He had not had time at that moment to think further about the look he had seen briefly flash across the Lieutenant's face, but he knew he had not liked it. What had provoked him so much to risk the whole caper in such a way? As he sat in the car still having to maintain the deception but desperate to tend to the needs of the two collapsed in the back, it seemed strange to him to see people apparently getting on with their lives, oblivious to the horrors whilst they queued at the '_boulangerie'_ with a basket on their arm, holding the hand of a child or sat at a table draped in a blue check cloth outside the cafe drinking coffee. Most, purposely, looked away. Only one or two had the affront to stare defiantly at the German staff car as it sped away. Perhaps if they knew what it held they might have a different reaction or had all these people too been demoralised and dehumanised by this war?_

_ggggggg_

_At the safe house Garrison had impatiently allowed Actor to check him over, flinching at the application of some sulpha to the nasty lesion on his shoulder, where a bullet had winged him which was starting to become infected. The many other bruises and cuts to his body, face, hands and arms would have to wait. Saying nothing, except to ascertain their current circumstances, he quickly cleaned himself up as well as he could and changed out of his tattered bloodied clothes into some spares they managed to cobble together between them. He gulped down some hot tea but refused food, the battering his stomach had sustained made it too painful,_ _the team's medic thought. As far as the Lieutenant was concerned he was 'fine', the old story. His main pre-occupation was the young woman who sat swaddled in a blanket on a makeshift seat hugging her knees and staring blankly into the fire they had risked lighting. She had let no one near her, not surprisingly since they were dressed in German uniform, except the Lieutenant who had insisted on carrying her from the car. Goniff had tried to coax her into drinking something but even his cheery disposition had drawn a blank. _

_Emmanuelle sat shivering, her clothes torn and __disheveled, livid bruises beginning to darken under her eyes, her bottom lip was split and her auburn hair fell matted around her shoulders. From his vantage point by the window Chief looked over at her. She reminded him of a survivor he had once seen from a train wreck. She looked smaller now than before, diminished in some way_, _he thought. The Warden quickly assessed the rest of the old fisherman's cottage and asked Chief to set a small fire in the bedroom which was amongst the eaves of the house. It still contained some remnants of the family that once had lived there. An old patchwork quilt covered the musty bed and on a small dressing stand stood a blue and white Delft ware wash basin and jug, miraculously still intact, and there was a faded curtain at the small dormer window. It would serve the purpose he had in mind. He brought down the jug and filled it with some warm water from the pot that stood by the fire and rooted through the remaining pile of odd clothes, Goniff's favourite roll neck jumper and Chief's trousers would do. Actor, understanding his intentions, took the jug and clothes from him and added some additional bits and pieces which he thought would be useful, and a pair of woolly socks Goniff threw his way, while Garrison squatting shakily in front of Emmanuelle asked her gently permission to help clean her up and tend to her wounds. She raised her eyes for the first time and nodded. As he picked her up still wrapped in the blanket her gaze did not leave his face. The rest of the team anxiously watched, not allowing themselves to think too deeply about what she might have been through, as he carried her up the creaking staircase followed by Actor who would leave Garrison to it once he had put down his bundle. The small fire had caught hold and its warm light flickered across the tiny room as he helped her. All the time her dark eyes searched for his. Finally he placed her on the bed and lay down beside her, cradling her like a child in his arms. _

_Light was fading and only a thin band of violet still showed out across the sea when Actor returned to find the Warden; it was time to be on the move. In the remaining fire light Garrison looked haggard and worn but he was not asleep. A fever had taken hold and his eyes were bright, their blue green colour almost luminous as he mumbled incoherently something about wishing he had done more. The con man was not wholly sure to what his commander alluded but of what he was certain was the need to get the two of them home._

ggggg

The tall suave Italian stood at the top of the large sweeping staircase with its carved oak banister looking down at the Lieutenant's closed office door. He knew he was in for a bit of a rough ride but he had learnt how to fence words with him and knew most of his thrusts and parries. He drew in breath and elegantly moved off down the stairs two at a time and knocked.

"Yeah, come in if you must!"

Ah, on the attack already he thought. The Warden was standing with his back to him at the large open window casement leaning with one hand high on the frame. He was gazing out across the rolling park land of the estate; its green acres dotted with large ancient oak and chestnut trees whose lower boughs had been trimmed neatly by countless cattle.

"Well, what have you got to say to me then?"

"May I sit down?" There was no reply so Actor did so anyway crossing his long legs andassuming a relaxed posture. He began the ceremony of filling his pipe. He noticed the stack of papers on Garrison's desk and the open filing cabinet and that nothing was kept quite as neatly as it once would have been. The Lieutenant turned and stubbed out his cigarette in the already full ash tray.

"Well, out with it man, damn it!"

He raised his eyebrows provocatively as he closed the open files, one marked 'Operation Overlord', and shuffled them into a pile. He remained standing and leaned on his hands on the edge of the desk. Actor ignored the obvious aggression in his stance.

"You can't deny that your behaviour..." he began in a reasonable tone, "has been quite, how shall we say, erratic and somewhat uncharacteristic of late, and this is affecting the morale of the team."

"Hmm," Garrison huffed.

"If you don't do something about it you're in jeopardy of losing all our trust and it's even been suggested that we'd be better off back in jail. It's taken you a long while to get Chief on your side..."

"So you've been having a little chat have you!"

Actor nodded nonchalantly, ignoring Garrison's attempt to put him on the defensive.

"You no longer run with him and he certainly feels the rebuff. I don't need to tell you that your relationship with Casino is going from bad to worse and Goniff, well, he just keeps his head down."

Garrison bristled but it was going better than Actor had hoped.

"You spend most of your time locked up in here on your own, and granted it was an attempt on your part to join us for lunch today I know, but look where that got you! If these were the only problems..."

"What other problems?" The Lieutenant gave him a hostile look which would have floored anyone who did not know him.

"You've been making, what shall we call them..." Actor braced himself, "mistakes. I think if you don't do something, I'll be obliged to go to a higher authority."

Garrison slammed his open hands down hard on the desk.

"I'll not have the likes of you pass comment on my effectiveness as a commander!" But as soon as he had said it the bluster went out of him and he slumped himself down into his high backed leather chair somewhat dejectedly.

"Sorry Actor, that wasn't called for."

"Well, do something then!" replied Actor stinging somewhat from the Warden's implications. "It's only all going to get worse if you don't resolve what's playing on your mind. As I see it, it all stems from that time in Trévière. We cut you some slack to begin with, but..."

"Yeah, I realise that too, you're not suggesting a shrink I hope because I'll not do that. They'd stick me in an office job and that really would send me crazy. Anyway, you're already beginning to sound like one." A slight grin turned up at the corners of his mouth and the tension between the two men relaxed.

"Do you know where and how Emmanuelle is?"

Garrison shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the bluntness of the man when required and his ability to see the wood for the trees never ceased to surprise him and he respected him for it.

"Emmanuelle," he sighed, "Jennifer you mean, she's at home with her parents in Norfolk somewhere, doing OK according to all reports."

"Well, find out for yourself will you, write to her or better still go and see her."

"She won't want to see me of all people Actor." Garrison said despondently.

"Hmm..." the con man did not push further knowing that he had done enough to set the seed. He just raised an eyebrow as he made to leave.

"Would you like some coffee brought up while you write that letter?"

Once Actor had gone, the Warden sat back for a while in deep contemplation knowing that Actor was right but he could not possibly conceive of writing to Jennifer. What could he say? There had been no contact between them since their return; she had been deeply traumatised and had been whisked off to a different hospital and debriefed separately once she had recovered enough. The longer there had been no contact between them, the more difficult it had become to take that step. An idea crossed his mind. So he lit another cigarette and drew a piece of headed letter paper from the drawer and began...

Dear Mr. & Mrs. Brown,

and then let a ghost of a smile cross his face as the lines of a popular cockney song that Goniff sang once in a while drifted through his mind, but he had no idea how to continue. How much did her parents know about what really happened? He did need to see Jennifer but for whose sake he wondered. Would it do more harm than good churning it all up if she really was doing okay?

A reply from the brief telegram he finally decided to write came back within an hour:

"Please come Saturday pm STOP"

That was going to be problematic to organize, but in his business it did not pay to put things off; transport would be difficult, going by train near impossible and petrol was tight but he did have a few favours he could call in and he was due 48 hours' leave.

ggggg

He left orders with Sergeant Major Rawlins to keep the team as busy as possible and to keep them in the dark as to where he was going. He set off early before anyone was around to ask him searching questions and he knew also that it would be a long drive. In one sense he was looking forward to it, the drive that was. He had not really let himself think beyond that. It meant time completely to himself where no one could butt in, almost self-indulgent; doing something whilst not really doing anything, he thought. He had not done that for what seemed a lifetime. After a couple of hours he was round London, and the flat countryside of Cambridgeshire, with its fields of cabbages and early potatoes slipped by and gave way to the slightly more rolling and wooded nature of Suffolk. Churches, built in Saxon times, denoted by their round towers, seemed to be dotted everywhere and there was the occasional windmill too. Then on into Norfolk, not as flat as everyone always said. The day was warm for late May and the sense of space struck him, the white clouds in a huge sky almost seemed to touch the tops of the elms that punctuated the landscape. The fields of still green barley and wheat swayed gently; amongst them swathes of red poppies and white oxeye daisies stood. Flocks of noisy rooks scattered from the trees as the jeep zipped past. It was beautiful and the war seemed to have passed it all by, he thought, until he was shaken back into the real world by two Hawker Hurricanes which buzzed low over him, the pilots letting off pent up adrenaline by having some fun on their way back from a shout. Knowing these would be from the RAF Coltishall he realised he too was nearing his target, but he was still no closer to knowing what he was really going there for, what it would achieve or how he would be received.

The modest brick house stood just off the village green, a section of the red pan tiled roof sweeping down to form a porch. Fronting it was a casual cottage garden, the type only Brits seemed to be able to make and a wooden gate whose spokes were set in such a way as to imitate the sunrise pattern in the stained glass window of the front door and those of the small lights above the windows. It all looked very homely. He would have been glad to have grown up in such a place. No sooner had he put his hand on the gate latch than the front door opened, releasing a small yappy dog, followed by a bonny woman who came hurrying out towards him leaving her husband standing in the doorway. Garrison straightened up and braced himself in anticipation. She began to welcome him warmly even before she had reached him, chattering on in her Norfolk drawl how good it was of him to come and chastising him lightly for not having come before. She locked her arm through his and virtually dragged him up the path, still wittering to him and giving him no opportunity to reply for which he was grateful. Her husband took his hand in a firm hold and placed the other gently on Craig's upper arm.

"Come in young man, do, you're so very welcome."

"Thank you, sir," was as much as Garrison could get out embarrassed by what he thought was very misplaced attention.

"I'll just slip through and put the kettle on," Mrs Brown said.

"Oh, bugger the tea Doris, I expect the Lieutenant here could do with something a bit stronger. I certainly can."

As he was drawn along the hallway he heard movement on the staircase behind him. His heart missed a beat, but when he turned he was confronted with a gangly teenaged version of the woman he really wanted to see. She hovered on the bottom step somewhat wide eyed and open mouthed and offered enthusiastically to take his jacket and cap which, once obtained, she hugged to herself. Her dad ticked her off kindly and sent her out to find her sister. Craig was invited into a cosy sitting room and offered a large comfortable chintz covered chair to sit in while Mr Brown, or 'Sid' as he had been asked to call him, fussed in the cabinet, chinking glass and inspecting bottles to find what remained of his meagre supply of decent single malt. The sun shone in through the large French doors that stood open so brightly and reflected off the parquet floor that it was difficult to make out what lay beyond. The breeze lightly played with the floral curtains.

"I'm not sure where I should start sir ...ymm, Sid, to be honest. I need to explain..." Craig began breaking the silence between them.

"I know, I know, you really don't need to, it must be very distressing. I can't imagine how anyone could get through what you two had to endure. We assumed that's why you hadn't been in touch - not wanting to drag it all up - and we didn't want to intrude on your privacy either. I just want to say thank you wholeheartedly for getting our girl back to us." He proffered the glass to Craig. "Cheers..."

"She's an exceptionally bright young woman you know. She taught French at the girl's high school in Norwich after having lived in France with her husband for a few years, poor chap was killed oh, some two, two and a half years ago. Jen so wanted to do something for the war effort, thought she could put her talents to some better use, but we did so worry about her. My son's with the Royal Norfolks , the last we heard he was out in Kohima."

"North East India?" Craig put in.

"Yep, you don't happen to know...? Well no... I shouldn't ask really but..." he sighed. "My other daughter, Sal, she's just volunteered to be a 'land girl'!" he laughed and raised his eye brows. "Thank God, at least it keeps her at home."

The Lieutenant pondered at how positive this man could be. His family had so much to bear as did so many others. He felt strongly at this time that he had not made it any better for them.

"I understand what you did for our Jen, son..."

"But that's the point Sid, I'm not sure that you do... It was my team who really did all the work, all I did was..." He trailed off as she came in through the French doors with her sister tagging on behind giggling a little. The sunlight behind Jennifer highlighted her hair but momentarily left her face in dark shadow and her tall slender form in silhouette. As she progressed further into the room her features came clear. She looked older than her 25 years and her face was strained but she was lovely, something Craig had not had occasion to notice before. As he rose from the chair, placing his glass down on the small round mahogany table beside it, she moved towards him tentatively at first, but then more determinedly and came on to embrace him laying her cheeks against his in the typical European style of greeting. Her sister shot a glance at her father looking for disapproval but found none.

"Right then, well, we'll leave you two together, I'll see how that tea's coming along. Get up those stairs you, I'm sure you've got plenty you can be getting on with." Sid addressed his youngest daughter as he ushered her out of the room and retreated into the depths of the house.

Garrison stood perplexed, so unsure of himself which was such an anathema to him. Jen saw in his face sorrow and noticed with sadness his inability to hold her gaze. They began together some banal conversation about the unseasonably warm weather for May and his trip up but both knew there was so much more that needed to be said. He finally took courage. "And how are you?"

"OK, fine," she clipped back.

He realised then how frustrating that stock phrase, his stock phrase, could be to the one who asked the question when they really wanted to know the truth of it.

Silence fell, and then Jennifer took his hand and led him out through the French doors, out into the garden and air where she could breathe. As she walked she let her hand trail into the budding lavender that edged the old brick path. In later times, when Craig caught that fragrance it would immediately evoke this encounter but for the moment its aromatic scent being lifted into the air by the light breeze eluded him. Passing the neatly pricked out rows of vegetables and canes to carry the runner beans they came to a stop under an apple tree as she moved to stand in front of him placing her hands on his upper arms and looked him squarely in the face.

"Now what is it, Lieutenant…Craig?"

He sighed and swallowed hard fighting back the emotion he had so long held under tight rein. It was bubbling up threatening to unman him. He was surprised by it and his inability to control it.

"I can't…I, ymm." He scrubbed his hand across his furrowed brow. "I'm so sorry; it was all my fault, me that got you into it. I hold myself wholly responsible for what happened to you and you're fully justified in blaming me..." The words came out fast like a stream in spate and she watched horrified as this brave man broke down in front of her, his head dropping and his shoulders slumping. He continued, fighting hard to stay in control, that it had been his foolhardiness as she had put it, stupidity and lack of forethought that had drawn the Germans to her at that moment. That once they had been taken he could have done more to have prevented what that officer had done to her, could have bought them time, could have fed him a line to have saved her that and felt that his being there had even prompted the officer's actions.

She lifted her hands to his face and forced him to look at her, the smell of lavender still lingering.

"No, you're not to blame, if anything it's the war, it turns people into monsters, gives people who are corrupt a platform, validity. Craig, those Germans were on to me and were ready to take me despite you, that's why I was so angry initially, that you'd let yourself get caught up in it. I knew it would be very risky for anyone to help me; I kept away from Jean-Paul so as not to reveal him too. I got rid of the radio and hoped someone might come, but I knew what the easy way to prevent me falling into German hands would be. But you chose to risk it, to try to get me out, I can only thank you for that."

He still wasn't listening, just shaking his head so she kissed his cheek to try to reassure him, tasting the salt from his tears. She drew down his head onto her shoulder and held it fast, his body still tense with emotion. They clung to one another as he wrapped his arms around her as her tears too ran unattended down her face. She left her hand on the nape of his neck gently caressing the soft hair like one would a child to give him comfort, to make him feel better.

Her father standing behind his wife at the kitchen sink, watching the unfolding scene out of the window, made to move to intervene but Doris caught his arm and gave him a knowing look which told him to leave well alone.

"That German used me to try and get information from you, yes, but you must not take that onto yourself," Jen continued when they had mastered control of themselves a bit. "He would have done it despite you being there, you must know the rumours, what happens to women 'spies'. There would have been no way of preventing it or guaranteeing that he would have held back whatever you might have come up with. In fact, you being there gave me strength. God knows what I might have told him, your courage uplifted mine. When I begged you to hold my gaze when that little bastard did what he wanted with me, it was not intended to make you take the blame, not to make you feel guilty, but to help me fight against the pain and degradation of it all. It was like holding your hand, to keep some little contact with honesty and decency. I would have been lost without you, how could you have misread that!"

He finally raised his head and looked at her, shocked out of it by her pragmatic approach to it all.

"Have you given yourself time to grieve for what he took from you, what he subjected you to?" she spoke more softly now. "You ask for forgiveness. What for? Stop blaming yourself for something you had no control over!"

She needed to move so she linked an arm through his, reminiscent of the way her mother had done earlier which now seemed to Garrison like a lifetime ago. He too was glad of the movement as she led him through the wooden latch gate set in the knapped flint wall at the bottom of the garden.

"And how are you really?" his question sounded clipped while he still struggled to contain himself.

"Getting there slowly, good days and bad ones. I've still a long way to go with some things as you can imagine."

"I'm sorry I've stirred it all up again today."

"Don't be, it's not good to bottle it all up."

"Do your parents know the whole story?"

She nodded. "But my sister doesn't, why should she have to face the horrors of this world? She's too young yet to be so disillusioned. Mum and dad have been very supportive, but I do find it hard to talk to my friends though."

Craig knew how that felt only too well. They walked for a while along the green lane that led through the small coppice and down to the water meadow created by the large lazy meander of the River Bure where Friesian cattle grazed peaceably and moorhens flapped about noisily in the water's edge amongst the reeds. She watch him slowly pull himself together, to assume the stance of an Army Officer as he dusted down his uniform shirt, now somewhat crumpled. He stood up straight and pushed his fingers through his tawny hair taking in a long breath and letting it out by degrees. Again she stopped him by standing in front of him and by taking his hands in hers which she studied for a while. The last time she had seen them was when he had helped her tenderly clean herself up. They had been bloody and sore, his wrists abraded by the rough ligatures that had been used to tie him and suspend him by his arms. His nails which had gone then were now grown back except the little one on his left hand.

He noticed her scrutinise it.

"Won't grow back for some reason," and she replied looking into his eyes that could now hold her own.

"I know it's a platitude but don't let that bastard take your soul, Craig, I'll never give him the satisfaction."

They held each other again for a while gently swaying, anyone watching may have thought they were lovers. Eventually they turned around and headed back to the house as the afternoon sun dipped behind the trees and threw long shadows over the meadow.

It did not take much for Mrs. Brown to persuade Garrison to agree to stay overnight. The thought of driving back during the blackout or staying in some impersonal pub was not appealing to him. He was glad also to take the opportunity to spend more time with Jen; a chance to get to know one another and to create new memories. It was good to be in the heart of this companionable family and just to hear his Christian name being used. It had also been a long time since he had been touched so easily, so familiarly. The two young people sat on the veranda chatting about this and that while the small dog ran backwards and forwards chasing and retrieving a tennis ball Craig was rolling along the path for him. It eventually came and sat down by his feet. The somniferous sounds of the family and the BBC Home Service drifted out to them from the sitting room. Garrison would have liked to have taken the opportunity to tell Jen how valuable her information had turned out to be but he did not want to spoil the moment; in fact that would be self-evident in a week or two anyway. They watched the swifts swirling on the thermals until their patrolling was taken over by Pipistrelle bats who hunted for the same prey as it grew dusk. Craig was relieved however when the family turned in. He was absolutely exhausted, the stress of the day helped on by a generous meal and the rest of Sid's good whisky. He made a mental note not to come empty handed on his next visit.

ggggg

Jen tapped lightly on the panelled door but on hearing nothing tried again and then just entered concentrating not to spill the steaming hot cup of tea she was carrying as she turned the black Bakelite handle. She was not surprised to see that the blackout curtains were slightly drawn back and that a towel had been rolled up against the bottom of the door to prevent any light seeping out inadvertently from the interior of the house into the night. She did the same herself, no longer able to cope with the total darkness that the blackout's closure afforded.

He looked peaceful laying there on his back in her brother's bed, one hand resting on his stomach raising and falling with his steady breathing, the sheet wrinkled over his strong athletic frame, his dog tags fallen to one side of his neck. It was good to see him so relaxed, so she gazed upon him unabashed for a moment or two trying to imprint this image on her mind, hoping it would overwrite the one that came to her in nightmares - of his bloodied body wracked with pain. Drawing breath, she steadied herself and pattered softly on the lino in her bare feet around the little bed to set the cup down on the small glass topped bedside cabinet. As she moved his watch aside, to place the cup down in easy reach for him, he finally stirred and looked up surprised to think that someone had managed to get so close to him. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and smiled.

"Morning, you obviously slept well!" Jen commented smiling down at him.

"Yeah, I really did, went out like a light, what the devil's the time?"

Craig drew himself up onto one elbow and stretched out for his watch trying also to drag the sheet over himself in what she thought was a slightly embarrassed manner. She chuckled and lent over to place his pillows so he could lean back more comfortably. He smiled his thanks and then turned for the cup.

"Phew, tea in bed and all this attention, I could get used to this!"

"Oh, I expect you like coffee in the mornings, and I'm sorry I don't know if you take sugar - not that we've got any at the moment anyway!" Jen felt she had known him forever and yet she knew so little about him.

"Don't worry, it's great, thanks," He held back from saying that he would much rather have a well-made cup of tea than a cup of what claimed to be coffee in this country. They looked at each other in silence for a moment.

"Will you be alright?" Craig asked more seriously now.

"It might take some time but I'm working towards it with my family's help, and yours if that's not presumptuous...?"

"You have it of course, you don't need to ask."

Seeing the still reddened scar on his uppermost bare shoulder she raised her hand instinctively and touched out to it, this being the most recent of many she could see on his upper body.

"And you?"

"Hmm, me? Well, I'll get through it; I've always done so in the past." He grinned up at her and took her hand in his. She knew he would get through it, if he could manage to survive the war that seemed to be taking him piece by piece. A moment's sadness came over her and she had to walk away so she busied herself by pulling the curtains more fully and open the window wider letting the sunlight and fresh morning air flow in. Craig watched her recover her composure and it struck him then how strong she was, stronger, he acknowledged, than he was in so many ways.

"Oh, I nearly forgot to ask," her tone light again, "mum's asking if you fancy an egg for breakfast?"

"What, a real one!"

"Yep, from our chickens," she laughed. "Didn't you see the hutch in the garden yesterday?" It came to her then that of course he had not; he had seen nothing in the intensity of that moment. He was saved from making a reply as Sid called good humouredly up the stairs.

"Get yourself down here Jen, your mum wants to slip off to church and I'm sure if the Lieutenant can navigate his way around war torn Europe he can find his way to the bathroom!"

Sid heard the laughter down in the kitchen and smiled, pleased to hear it ring out from his daughter again. Jen moved off to do her dad's bidding, but stopped as she reached the door, moved back to Craig, took his face in her hands and gently laid a kiss on his forehead, then slipped off lightly from the room, her pretty cotton dress swishing as she went.

He lent back and stretched out strengthened by the normality of it all; being with gentle people, those with whom he could relax, away from the chauvinism of the war just for a while. Actor had been right to bully him, or was it 'con' him into this he thought. He owed him a lot as he did the other members of his team. He needed to let them know it and to let them in. It was true what was said, that the war which created monsters of some people, as Jen had put it, could equally bring out the best in others.

ggggggg

Garrison found Mrs. B as to be expected in the kitchen chuntering to herself, fussing over some pot that she could not reach down, so he stretched up easily for it.

"Any tea on the go, Mrs. B?" He knew there would be, there always was.

She gave him a bit of a scowl as she took the pot from him and gestured that he should go and sit down out of her way. Once he had done so she plonked down a large white stoneware mug in front of him on the table, pushed the milk jug his way, cut off and plated up a piece of cake for him and urged him with a jerk of her head to eat. She was more worried about him than angry but she was not going to let him get away with it quite that easily.

He broke the silence. "Thank you Mrs B. for all you do for us and, ymm... I was well out of line the other day... sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you."

She fetched the tea pot and came up close beside him as he sat and as she poured the hot steaming amber liquid she put her spare arm across his shoulder and cuddled him into her side a bit.

"As long as you're alright. You know, I think of you all as my lads now, well, all except that Actor," She raised an eyebrow and the Lieutenant caught her drift, it seemed no woman was immune to that man's charms. He chuckled.

"But it's you and that young 'un I worry about the most, you're such loners, isn't that the word you Americans use, but," she wagged a finger at him, "I'm telling you this for nothing, if you ever swear like that in front of me again, you're not too big to go over my knee."

He laughed out loud. "You and whose army!" which won him a clip around the ear and his hair ruffled. She moved away from his side quickly as voices were heard coming their way.

"Hi Warden, Sergeant Major said he thought he'd seen you back. Been away on some sort of mission of your own then?" Goniff moved off to poke about in the biscuit tin to see what he could find to eat.

"Well, you could say that." Garrison wondered if they had had another one of their meetings. "I'm glad you're all here, I need to speak to you."

"Oh, blimey, not another bloody assignment Warden - sorry, Mrs. B…"

"Well, not exactly," he let it hang a moment monitoring their reaction, waiting for the usual grousing to start in earnest but it did not come. "To be honest I need to explain something to you, let's go to the library. Grab some tea before you go, this might take some time." He was concerned to see Casino give a sullen shrug as he turned away to make some comment to Chief, but then what could he expect, he thought. He had treated them badly of late and he would have to work to earn back their respect. He watched all four men that he had grown so used to, grown to think of as friends, grown to trust his life to, each with their own little idiosyncrasies and talents and hoped he had not alienated them from him beyond repair. He had worked out the apologies he was going to make to them, they deserved that and he hoped it would be enough to get their relationships back on track.

As the others moved off Actor hung back and came to Garrison's side. He put a hand on his shoulder, raised an eyebrow, and nodded as they left the kitchen together.

By Annette M. Smith, all rights reserved.


End file.
